


Smells Like Teen Spirit

by T0XIC_P0IS0N



Series: I Want Blood, Guts, and Chocolate Cake [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, Big Brother Gabriel (Good Omens), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Good Person Gabriel (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Teen Angst, Teen Aziraphale (Good Omens), Teen Crowley (Good Omens), Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T0XIC_P0IS0N/pseuds/T0XIC_P0IS0N
Summary: Being a high school student is easy… said no one ever.(Aka the high school AU me and my discord pals made up.)





	1. High School Hierarchy

_ Smells Like Teen Spirit _

_ Chapter 1: High School Hierarchy _

🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️

  
  
  


From inside the school gym, booming music and cheering from wild clapping and applauding students during a pep rally could be heard echoing throughout the school. This pep rally is intended to lift the spirits of the football players, who were playing tonight against their most prominent school rival. The whole student body was here, teachers hanging out on the side to ensure the students didn’t become too hysterical. Order was all the staff members really cared about in this school… that, and test scores, completely blind to stressful moments their students are forced to endure alone. 

He understood that pep rallies intended to encourage their football players, but even with that understanding, these things just weren’t Aziraphale’s scene. 

Standing outside the door, alone, Aziraphale peered inside the small window of said door, watching as cheerleaders did their cheer routines and football players caused a massive, booming roar throughout the student body. The door was open, so at any time, Aziraphale could step in and join his peers. But, that would be awkward; he didn’t want people shooting him weird looks. He couldn’t even bring himself to stand in the door, for the same reason. So, he stood there, watching, giggling to himself as he watched his older brother, Gabriel, act like a big goofball with his fellow football players. 

Gabriel is a quarterback for the football team; Aziraphale usually describes him as having “all brawn, no brain” despite him being rather smart… when he wants to be. His older brother is a senior in high school this year, a grade above Aziraphale. When Aziraphale was still in middle school —eighth grade, to be exact—and Gabriel had just started high school, the latter had already made a big name for himself and even talked highly of his little brother. Being a football player with a massive school presence, their peers concluded that Aziraphale was a football player, just like his brother.

But when high school started for him, that was the exact opposite. Aziraphale wasn’t an athlete—understandably so; he wasn’t the type that liked sports. He was more of a book person; hell, he even recreated the long-abandoned book club, steadily being the club’s president for his currently three years of high school. His book club met every Wednesday and Friday, and, upon its creation, surprisingly received a lot of attention, bustling with members. Aziraphale couldn’t be happier with that. 

It was funny, really, how Gabriel and Aziraphale are two different teens with two different hobbies. 

Aziraphale, not seeing any reason to stay there anymore, decided to retreat back to the library. As he walked down the hallway, he thought of the school hierarchy his fellow students created. Hierarchy, food chain—whatever you wished to call it, was in place, not by the staff, but by the students. It seemed like everyone in this school had a faction they belonged to, and if they didn’t, then… well, their names were never mentioned. Teens with factions usually called these teens  _ floaters _ . Aziraphale knew his name was brought up a few times in any faction, mainly the jocks, due to the simple fact of his club. The faction he belonged to; the nerds. 

At the bottom of the hierarchy, the  _ nerds _ are a faction of teens that are typically really smart, receive extraordinary grades, and typically keep to themselves. This faction didn’t just consist of teens that liked to study, but it also had teenagers who loved video games. They were typically found in the library after school and even in their classrooms, studying or playing video games as if it was all their life needed. Aziraphale is the epitome of the stereotypical nerd, wore the glasses and everything. However, he never really interacted with others from his faction. In fact, he knew more jocks personally than that of nerds.

Then there were  _ stoners _ —or, drug addicts, as they  _ should _ be called. As the name suggests, these kids were all about drugs; such as weed and other, more hardcore drugs. Some of them, although not all, were even about alcohol. They were all about parties wherein teens popped pills like it was candy, smoked and drank like the world was going to end tomorrow. They typically hang out behind the school building after hours and shady back alleyways. It was sad, really, that these guys earned more recognition than teenagers who worked hard and had many sleepless nights studying for a test the next day.

The  _ delinquents _ are a group of teens who are like modern-day greasers; minus the being degraded for clothes. Their name may suggest their bad attitude, horrible reputations for enforcing fear and disorder amongst the student body. They liked to skip class, important school meetings; including pep rallies for the sports kids. If they show up for class, it’s never on time, they never do their homework, and they usually scream at teachers to leave them alone. Their turf is the student parking lot and even behind the school building with the stoners. 

Next up was the  _ rich teens _ ; snobby, popular kids with a bratty attitude, high-quality clothes, pretty faces and enough money to spend it on useless objects or throw it shove it in other’s faces to show off. They didn’t like to get dirty, whether it be their body or their prim, proper clothes. They acted high and mighty with condescending attitudes. Blackmailing students to do their dirty work, as well as buying out someone’s silence was their biggest game. They never hang out on school grounds, choosing their own private places for meetings and discussion. 

The  _ jocks _ are a fraction of sports-loving kids who rule the school. The kings and queens of the school, athletic teenagers with brawn and impressive physique. Nobody, not even the delinquents, messed with these guys. The jocks included all sports, not just football, and even included the cheerleaders. These guys liked to wear letterman jackets for every season of the year. They weren’t deprived of being smart; in fact, some earned good grades. Gabriel is a prime example of that. The jocks hung out in the gym, teens who belonged to any sport can be found in there after school hours. 

There are many other cliques around the school, but these five cliques were the main ones, the more recognized factions. Other cliques didn’t have a place on the hierarchy, and they mainly stuck to themselves or others in their cliques; examples would be  _ floaters _ ,  _ loners _ , and the  _ student council _ . 

Aziraphale didn’t understand why these cliques had to exist, and why everyone had to belong somewhere. He wised for unity; he wanted everyone in the school to feel safe and equal. But, unfortunately, that just didn’t happen. With cliques still being very real and widely practiced throughout the student body, there will more than likely never be a time where everyone considers each other equals. 

  
  


At the end of the day, Aziraphale found himself at his locker, groups of friends passed him every once in a while, boyfriends and girlfriends doing something romantic off to the side or walking out of the school holding hands and whispering loving nothings. Aziraphale sorted his books and notebooks in his book bag, making sure his laptop was present. He intends to study in the library today and finish the remains of his homework he didn’t finish today during lunch. His older brother would pick him up from school at four o’clock; so that gave him two hours of nothing but studying and finishing up his assignments. He had a presentation due next weak about how gaslighting affects someone’s mental health, and what it can do to their social skills. It was an interesting topic, and Aziraphale is glad he picked it. It was important to bring up the topic of mental health to teenagers; self-awareness was important. 

Aziraphale stopped whatever he was doing to look up, his eyes landing on a rather attractive boy with red hair. His phone was up against his ear, talking to someone on the other end of the phone. It was quite rude to stare at someone, but Aziraphale couldn’t help it. He was just so eye-catching… 

The redhead ended the call on his phone and shoved it in his pocket, proceeding to grab a few things from his own locker and shoving it in his bag. After shutting his locker, he turned his head and noticed Aziraphale, who was still staring at him. The blond squeaked a little when the boy flashed a smirk at him, quickly, he turned his head back to his locker and stared at particularly nothing in hopes that the guy would get the idea that he meant nothing by his staring. Obviously, that didn’t work, hearing metal shifting underneath the weight of someone leaning against it. 

“Hello,” A voice said, belonging to the mysterious guy. “Noticed you staring at me.” 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “Did you come over here to tease me?” He shot. 

“Nah.” The guy replied. “The name’s Anthony Dowling, but you can call me Crowley,  _ angel _ .” 

Ah. Aziraphale knew about this guy. Anthony Dowling was a boy in this school that took a lot of destructive criticism and had many lovers in the past and supposedly lost his virginity during the middle of freshman year. Aziraphale didn’t know if the rumors were true, but having an older brother who liked to be overly protective, he had no choice but to consider the possibility. But at the same time, Aziraphale believes its just Gabriel being the protective big brother that he is… 

_ Wait, angel? _

“What’s your name, if you mind me asking?” Asked the newly introduced  _ Crowley _ . 

“Aziraphale.” Says Aziraphale, keeping his face hidden. 

Crowley grinned. “Aziraphale, huh?” He nodded. “Well,  _ Aziraphale _ , it was nice meeting you, but I have to get to the school pool. Swim team stuff and whatnot. See ya around.“ He waved before leaving. 

For a minute, Aziraphale stood there, stunned. He had just met the guy Gabriel had warned him about, and he actively  _ flirted _ with him. Or, was he flirting? Would you consider that flirting? Aziraphale had never been flirted with before. Shaking his head to snap himself out of it, Aziraphale took a deep breath and headed over to the library. 

As expected, teenagers were in there with a quiet silence shadowing them, studying material for their class or finishing their homework. The receptionist flashed Aziraphale a smile as he walked in before picking a seat off to the far right. Digging out of his laptop, he booted it up, logging into his school email so he can access his presentation. He had class time to start it earlier, but of course, he didn’t get it done since he wanted to get a good grade on it. It had to be perfect if he wanted to earn a good score, and twenty minutes of class time wasn’t enough to achieve that. About thirty minutes into it, Aziraphale only completed three slides, finding himself frustrated and distracted. He sunk into his chair and sighed, no one seemed to mind the rather loud sigh. He sat there in thought before deciding to walk around the school to clear his head, walking up to the receptionist. 

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale whispered, gaining the attention of the lady. “I’m going to go walk around for a bit. Could you please watch my stuff to ensure no one steals it?” He asks, pointing at his laptop and bag.

“I can do that.” She says reassuringly. 

As a response, Aziraphale smiles as he walks out of the library.

Walking around the school, Aziraphale thought about what all had happened today. Classes were normal without anything too serious happening, a fight had broken out today in the hallway, more than likely about something ridiculous, and he met the infamous Anthony Dowling who went by Crowley. Aziraphale pushed his glasses further up his face before stopping, hearing the sound of splashing water. Looking up, he noticed he was in front of where the school pool was, right in front of the door that was barely cracked open by a doorstopper. He peered in the door’s window to see the swim team practice commencing. 

That’s when he saw Crowley. He was talking to someone Aziraphale didn’t know—which was understandable since he didn’t know anyone on the swim team. Crowley laughed before stepping up, getting into position, and diving into the water, beginning his laps. For a while, Aziraphale watched as he swam around the pool, high-fiving some guys that passed him as though he was praising them for having a good technique. Aziraphale continued to watch this for a little while before he decided to leave. He had to get back to his homework and study… 

  
  


Aziraphale was packing up for the day. Still, he was frustrated; he decided to take a break from his presentation and tried to study, to no avail. His equations were off, the scientific formula completely flying out of his brain. He just could not  _ think _ . Unfortunately, though, it was four o’clock, so his brother Gabriel should be either waiting for him now or about to get here. He flashed the receptionist a smile before he exited the library, beginning to walk to the exit… before Aziraphale heard someone running and yelled his name. Turning around, he saw none other than Crowley sprinting at him. 

The blond blinked.  _ What does a jock like him want with a nerd like me? _

“Whew, glad I could catch up with you.” Said Crowley, breathing out a sigh of relief. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you need?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nah. I’m actually going home for the day since I already finished my swim practice. I assume you’re doing the same?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

“Cool,” He said, adjusting his bag. “I was wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, to walk out together?” He asked. 

_ He ran all this way just so we could walk out together? _ Aziraphale thought. The blond was a little bit touched when he heard such words, despite the fact that they barely even knew each other. Even so, having some accompany him on his way outside the quiet school building sounded rather pleasant…  _ Oh, what the hell. Why not? _

Aziraphale nodded. “Sure. I do believe I would like that.” 

Crowley beamed. “Sweet.”

As the two made their way across the school to the exit, they chatted about class and even Crowley’s swim practice. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as his taller companion boasted about his practice. He seemed to really like being apart of the swim team, and that, Aziraphale could admire. It reminded him of how Gabriel liked to speak highly of the football team, however, Crowley had a certain confidence about himself he hadn’t seen in Gabriel. Gabriel is confident, sure, but there was just something about Crowley that made him far different from his older brother, but in a good way, of course. 

They also talked about the upcoming presentation Aziraphale was creating for his psychology class next week. He talked about what he planned to add and what to say, and even how it was relevant to their current class lesson. 

“I never took psychology before,” Crowley said, opening the front door of the school, allowing Aziraphale to exit first. He muttered a  _ you’re welcome _ when Aziraphale told thanked him. “Is it fun?”

“I do believe it is all about the eye of the beholder,” Says Aziraphale. “Some people—including myself—enjoy the class. Some, however, dropped the class a week after taking it, and even more students are thinking about dropping out of the class. It really all depends if you’re into it.” 

Crowley nods. 

Aziraphale smiles. “Well, thank you for walking with me. I enjoyed it.” 

“I did too.” 

Aziraphale was about to say something, but the honking of a horn caused them both to flinch. Looking over at the direction of the noise, Aziraphale saw Gabriel’s car, the latter gesturing with his hand at his brother to get him to get in the car. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Sorry, that’s just my brother. But it was lovely talking to you, Crowley.” 

“Yeah, I agree. We should do this more often.” Crowley said. “Talk to you later, angel.” He said before turning on his heel to walk away. 

Aziraphale just smiled before walking up to the car. He opened the backseat of the car first so he could toss his bookbag on the seat, then he shut it. Next, he opened the passenger seat of the car and hopped right in. 

“Did you get anything done on your presentation?” Gabriel asked as he started to drive.

“Some, but not a lot,” Said Aziraphale, pulling the seatbelt on. “It’s not due until next weak, so it doesn’t really matter that I didn’t get finished with it. I have tomorrow after my book club meeting and then the weekend. I’m sure I can get it done tonight or tomorrow night.”

“Right. You’re always pretty good at getting things done early.” Aziraphale took that as a compliment. “What’d you say you were doing it on?” 

“Gaslighting and it’s effects on one’s mentality and social skills.” 

Gabriel nodded.

After Aziraphale’s statement, the car ride was silent. The silence was rather comfortable, and Aziraphale just watched the scenery go by the driving car. The blond liked to watch as houses passed by them, finding comfort in watching the world fly by. It was a weird habit he picked up; perhaps it was due to him liking road trips. Speaking of road trips, he hasn’t been on one in a while… 

Gabriel ended up breaking the silence. “You do know that was Anthony Dowling you walked out with, right?” He asked. 

Aziraphale was snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh, Crowley? Yes, I know.”

“ _ Crowley? _ ” 

“Ah, he likes to be called that, you see,” Aziraphale said. “He told me when we met in front of my locker today.” 

Gabriel grimaced. “And you took his word for it?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because he’s a snake who’s always looking to break someone’s heart.” 

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You shouldn’t believe rumors, Gabriel.” 

“... You do know how many people he’s fucked, right?” Gabriel asks, barely above a whisper. But, Aziraphale heard that clear as day.

“ _ Gabriel! _ ” Aziraphale yells, clearly horrified. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Gabriel apologizes. “I just, don’t want you to get hurt. Okay? I’d watch him if I were you.” 

Aziraphale glared softly. “I don’t think he wants to get in my pants. I just met the guy! Besides, I refuse to judge a book by his cover. I would like to get to know him, thank you very much.” Aziraphale sighs. “Just drive, please. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

And they didn’t.


	2. Friends

_ Smells Like Teen Spirit _

_ Chapter 2: Friends _

🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️

  
  
  


Typically, Aziraphale has to take a deep breath before presenting a project in front of the class. It wasn’t that he was afraid of public speaking; he just worried about pronouncing something wrong, and finding mistakes mid-sentence. Embarrassment was his fear, not public speaking. Let’s be honest; anxiety is the biggest bitch alive. 

He was able to load his presentation without problem, thankfully. Taking another deep breath, and stood next to the screen, remote in hand so he could switch slides easier. 

“So, on my project, I decided to explore the concept of gaslighting and it’s effects on one’s mental state and social skills,” Aziraphale began. “But first, you may be asking yourselves; what is gaslighting? Well, allow me to explain! Gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse. The abuser wants to twist their victim’s perception of reality, making them doubt said reality.” Aziraphale explained. 

He clicked the remote, the next slide lighting up the darkened room. “Next I’ll explain the history of gaslighting. The term originates from a play in 1938 titled  _ “Gas Light.” _ In this play, a husband is trying to convince his wife that she is mentally unstable. In order to distort her reality, he changes her environment around her; an example would be the gaslights in the house.” Aziraphale looks at the students… who seemed to be very interested in the subject. “See where the term comes from?”

The class agreed as one. Aziraphale felt good to continue from there. 

“With these changes, he tries to convince her that she is simply imagining these things; that it’s all in her head. But why is he doing this? Simple; he wants to have her committed to an asylum so he can steal her inheritance.”

The students seemed to look shocked and disgusted. 

“Selfish, I know.” Says Aziraphale, pulling up the next slide. “This abuse is often subtle at first. Imagine someone is telling a story, and then the abuser challenges a detail, eventually forcing the victim to admit they were wrong. The abuser takes that as a victory and uses it to their advantage, challenging their memory. The victim may believe something is wrong in the relationship, but because the incident is so minor, they begin to doubt their emotions and usually ask the abuser if their memory is correct. That is how the abuser gains control over their target.”

Next slide. “There are many forms of gaslighting. I’ll explain,” Aziraphale takes another deep breath before reading. “Withholding: refusal to listen to one’s concerns and pretending to not understand said concerns.”

“Countering: questioning their victim’s memory, denying certain events that the target remembers accurately. Sometimes they even invent details on the said event.”

“Blocking or diversion: changing the current topic to something else in order to divert the victim’s attention from the topic. An abuser will also twist the conversation into an argument in order to challenge their victim’s credibility.

“And finally, trivializing: asserting that their victim is overreacting to a certain behavior that hurt them. This technique could lead to the victim disbelieve that their emotions are valid.”

“With all that said, what are the mental and social effects of gaslighting? Gaslighting has catastrophic effects on a person’s health. Because the process is so gradual, it chips away at the victim’s self-esteem and confidence. They come to believe they deserve the abuse. The abuser manipulates the victim into cutting ties with their family and friends, the person tends to isolate themselves, believing they are unstable and unlovable. Despite escaping the abuse, the after-effects will still linger. The person could continue to doubt their perception of reality and have trouble making decisions, making it less likely for them to voice their emotions. Constant self-doubt contributes to anxiety, and hopelessness contributes to depression. PTSD is also common.”

Next slide. Aziraphale was doing well. “If you are being gaslighted, do understand that all hope is not lost and that there are things you can do to fight back. What to do if you are in this situation;  _ do not _ take responsibility for your abuser’s actions.  _ Do not _ sacrifice yourself for the sake of sparing their feelings.  _ Do _ remember your truth.  _ Do not _ argue on their terms. Prioritize your safety. Remember that you are not alone.” 

And finally, Aziraphale looks at the class. “Finally, if you have been gaslighted, it is encouraged to seek therapy. It is important to prioritize your health, and you do not deserve to suffer in silence. Thank you.” 

Now that Aziraphale was finished with his presentation, he returned the remote back to the teacher as the students clapped and applauded. In the back, Hastur yelled out a “WOOOOOO!” that caused Aziraphale to giggle a little. After the applauding, Aziraphale began to make his way back to his seat as the teacher began to close out the presentation, opening up the next one and calling out their name. Aziraphale was relieved that it was over as if a major weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now sitting, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Soon after sitting, Hastur, who was sitting next to the blond, tapped him on the arm to gain his attention. 

“Nice job,” Hastur whispers. “I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score. You totally blew ‘em all away.” 

Aziraphale smiles. “I sure hope so. I spent a lot of time working on that.” He whispers back.

“How long are we talking?” Hastur asks, twidling his pencil in his hands. 

“The day it was assigned all the way through the weekend.” 

Hastur raises his eyebrows. “Really? That’s not like you at all. You’re usually really good at getting your work done early.” Right after he says this, his face twists into a concerned look. “Something on your mind?”

“Yes—I mean, no—I mean… oh, I don’t know.” Aziraphale. “I, um, met Anthony Dowling recently.” 

The pencil in Hastur’s hands stop moving, now sat down on the desk and the latter sits up straighter in his seat. “ _ The _ Anthony Dowling?” 

Aziraphale nods.

“... What did that bastard want?” Hastur asked, tongue laced with venom. That tone… shocked Aziraphale. He’s never heard Hastur become so hostile before.

Instead, Aziraphale merely rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like my brother. I already got an earful from Gabriel  _ yesterday _ when he found out we’ve been texting ever since last Friday.”

“He has your  _ number? _ ”

“Facebook messenger!” Aziraphale whisper-yells. “He doesn’t have my actual number, but we’re friends on Facebook. You know, normal teen social media.” 

Hastur breathed out a sigh of relief, slumping back into his chair and his head rolled back onto his chair as if a major weight was lifted off him. “I’m glad he doesn’t have your actual phone number; that bastard really doesn’t deserve it. He’s a snake, ya know.” 

Aziraphale frowned. “Gabriel said the exact same thing.”

“Because it’s the truth.” Said Hastur, looking at Aziraphale again. “He sneaks around and he’s fucked so many people before. You know he’s had three girlfriends this year, right? And it’s not even the end of the first semester. A tramp is what he is.” 

Aziraphale glared. “Whoever started those rumors must have been out to get him. Do you seriously believe every bit of gossip around this school?”

“Do you seriously believe every word that comes out of that fucker’s mouth?” Hastur shoots back.

The blond was about to defend Crowley (and himself, for that matter) until their teacher spoke up.

“Mr. Fell and Mr. Lavista; for you both to go on with your conversation for two presentations now, it must be a very important conversation! Would you like to share it with the class?” She asks.

They both shake their heads.

“Then pay attention! Quit being rude.” She says before returning to her list, calling out the name of another student before pulling up their presentation. 

Hastur grumbled, sinking further into his chair. He muttered an apology under his breath; not to the teacher, but at Aziraphale. The latter didn’t respond since he didn’t want to irritate their teacher more than he already had. But when his phone buzzed in his pocket, he couldn’t resist pulling it out to look at the notification, smiling when he saw the name.

_ Crowley. _

**Crowley-**

_ what are you doing rn? _

**Aziraphale-**

_ In class listening to presentations. Why do you ask? _

Aziraphale didn’t receive an answer right away. This made him raise an eyebrow. Crowley was usually really good about answering quickly; so it puzzled the blond when he didn’t receive anything. He decided to place his phone down on his desk, looking up at the current presenter, pretending like he was paying attention this entire time. His leg bounced nervously as he waited for Crowley to respond to his text. He was worried; what if something happened to him? Honestly, Aziraphale didn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. They barely knew each other… 

He wouldn’t have to worry for long. Aziraphale’s phone buzzed, and he quickly picked it up to read the text message.

**Crowley-**

_ bored out of my mind tbh. just finished my trigonometry test and I have nothing to do. you’re the only person besides my swim team pals that is nice to me _

Aziraphale felt chest tighten when he read that text. He felt horrible that Crowley had hardly anybody that took that time out of their day to be nice to him. It’s such a shame their peers decided to indulge themselves in false gossip without even bothering to listen to Crowley’s side of the story. He hated the way his brother and Hastur treated him; but what could he do? Aziraphale couldn’t change the opinions of either of them, let alone the whole school. If only he could just do something… 

**Aziraphale-**

_ That’s rather depressing. Do you wish to talk about it? _

Crowley was quick to respond this time.

**Crowley-**

_ nah, I’m fine. wanna know what my little brother did this morning? _

**Crowley-**

_ so he and our mom were talking about how some ppl feel nervous about talking to someone and how he didn’t understand why they couldn’t just get it over with. my mom responded with, “well sometimes people get butterflies in their stomach.” and this kid stares right at mom for a solid minute, kid you not, before shouting, “DIGEST THEM” _

Aziraphale had to cover his mouth from laughing so hard he would cause a scene right in the middle fo someone’s presentation. He snickered and giggled into his hand in an attempt to stifle his laughter. He hoped he wasn’t too loud with his giggles, but he couldn’t help himself. After taking a minute to breathe and calm down, he texts Crowley back.

**Aziraphale-**

_ Oh goodness! That is funny! He sounds like a funny kid. I didn’t know you had a little brother. _

**Crowley-**

_ yeah, he can be funny when he wants to be. sometimes unintentionally. he’s a prick but he never fails to make me or our mom laugh _

**Aziraphale-**

_ Crowley! That’s no way to talk about your brother! _

**Crowley-**

_ it's true! he’s such a savage. roasted the fuck out of my ex-girlfriend. he’s probably one of the reasons why we split but I really don’t care. she wasn’t right for me anyway _

**Crowley-**

_ another funny he pulled was when he attempted to make a mcflurry but had the “brilliant” idea to add green food dye to it.  _

**Aziraphale-**

_ Oh no. _

**Crowley-**

_ oh no indeed _

**Crowley-**

_ you would shit bright green for three. fucking. days. he put so much in it, it somehow made the ice cream thicker and the green was so bright you’d think Shrek owned the thing. it was an experience I never wanna undergo again _

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was disgusting, don’t get him wrong, but the experience must have been a mix of funny and horrible at the same time. But the way Crowley worded it, sprinkling with jokes made it sound funny. Crowley was naturally a very humorous person, and his jokes never failed to make him laugh. He strived for that kind of confidence to make such funny jokes.

For the rest of the class, Aziraphale continued to text with Crowley. He would giggle and attempt not to laugh loudly, causing both a disturbance and a scene. Hastur, who had been watching the entire class period, couldn’t help but glare at his desk. 

_ Why can’t I make Aziraphale laugh as hard and as much as that manwhore can? _ Hastur thought to himself.  _ I’ve known Aziraphale far longer than that motherfucker has. How can he just sweep in and gain his attention, just like that? This isn’t fair. Only I know Aziraphale as if he were the back of my hand. _

When the bell rung, Aziraphale put his phone back in his pocket and got up from his seat. Hastur followed behind him and started a conversation, asking about his day. They talked a little about classes, but it was cut short when Aziraphale saw Crowley waiting by his locker. The blond seemed to beam just by the sight of him, which made Hastur feel a slight pang in his heart. 

“It was lovely chatting with you, Hastur, but I should get going. I’ll see you around!” Says Aziraphale, waving goodbye to his friend before making his way to Crowley. 

“Uh, yeah. See you.” Hastur was pretty sure what he said didn’t even reach Aziraphale. He frowned and sighed sadly before retreating to his locker. 

Crowley was looking down at his phone as he waited for Aziraphale to arrive. They intended to spend lunch at the library… which may or may not have been his own suggestion. When Aziraphale arrived, the redhead smiled and put his phone away. 

“Hey, angel.” Crowley greeted, pressing his side into the locker next to Aziraphale’s. “How’d your presentation go?”

Aziraphale smiled as he started to put his locker combination in. “Hello, Crowley. It went perfectly! I’m sure I earned a good score. Everyone in my class seemed to like it, even my teacher.” 

“That’s good. Though, I think describing your score as “good” would be a severe understatement. I’m certain the score will be perfect.” Said Crowley.

“You are too kind,” Aziraphale said as he put his notebooks and textbooks into his locker. He already had his packed lunch in his bookbag, so he didn’t need to grab anything else. “Shall we head off to the library?”

Crowley nodded as he pulled himself off the locker. “Of course.” 

As they walked to the library, the two of them conversed and even cracked jokes with each other. Crowley talked some more about his little brother, to which Aziraphale remarked that it must be nice to be the older sibling. While in the library, Aziraphale talked about Gabriel and how he was far too overprotective over him, and Crowley listened. 

“... Gabriel tends to check on me whenever I’m alone in public.” Said Aziraphale.

Crowley snorted. “Really?” 

“Yes! It’s annoying. You would believe he was my dad or something, but no; he’s my older, jock brother that can’t seem to stop annoying me.” Aziraphale sighs. “I call him helicopter brother.”

“See, I understand wanting to look out for you little sibling, but not to  _ that _ point,” Said Crowley. “Like with me and my little brother; I want to look out for him, yes, but I’m not hovering over him. If you ever feel smothered, you could always crash at my place.” 

Aziraphale looked up. “That sounds divine, but I don’t think he would let me. You two do not seem to be on friendly terms...” Aziraphale said, pushing his glasses up further on his face.

“I’m never on good terms with the football team,” Crowley said. “At least I’m on good terms with the football team… and you.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at that. “Well, I’m glad we can be on good terms, Crowley.”

From outside the library, a figure stood next to the window, eavesdropping on Crowley and Aziraphale’s conversation. As he listened, he began to dial a number, putting it up to their ear as they waited for the person on the other end to pick up. When they did, the figure began to talk.

“Hello, Gabriel. Your little brother is, as you put it, fraternizing with the playboy.” They said.

From the other end of the phone, Gabriel sighed. “Ugh. He didn’t heed my warnings…”

“No, he did not. Rest assured, that I do not believe Anthony is trying to woo your brother. They are merely acting like good friends at lunch together. You have no reason to be worried.” 

“Even so, I don’t like it. I’ll keep convincing Aziraphale that Anthony is bad news.” Gabriel says. “I gotta go, but thank you for informing me, Vice President  _ Beelzebub. _ ” And he hung up. 

Beelzebub lowered the phone to their side before they slid it in their pocket. Gabriel always had to say that, like he was mocking them But, not matter. They pulled themselves off the wall, shoving their hands in their jacket pockets as they walked to the student council room. They muttered a simple sentence, not caring about whoever heard it;

“Drama queen.”


	3. Feelings, Feelings, Feelings

_ Smells Like Teen Spirit _

_ Chapter 3: Feelings, Feelings, Feelings _

🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️📄🖋️

  
  
  
  


Hastur hasn’t remembered a time where he was this sad before. 

On a September morning, Hastur remembered feeling sluggish, as if a hole had been punctured through his heart. He felt bitter loneliness chew at his heart, his mind turning on him as he imagined a life he could never have; a life in which Aziraphale would forever be apart of. He wanted to wake up every morning to see Aziraphale sleeping right next to him, feeling nothing but love and adoration throughout a room they would come to share. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to  _ kiss _ Aziraphale, hugging and holding him, as most couples typically did. But the thing is; Hastur knew this was just a fantasy, nothing like this was ever going to happen. How could it ever happy? They were best friends, nothing more. Aziraphale would find someone else, someone he would have more in common with. 

Hastur hated it. He hated everything about his situation; he was in love with his best friend he’s known since primary school, said best friend doesn’t love him back. Depression had already sunk in ever since yesterday afternoon when he realized what was set in stone, and had woken up with it chewing at his heart and making an enemy out of his mind. Aziraphale fell in love with that… that  _ manwhore. _ How could he not? Hastur could practically  _ see _ the hearts in their eyes as they talked to one another! And, to top it all off, they  _ just _ met! Hastur has known Aziraphale for years, and suddenly this manwhore of a guy suddenly swoops in and wins his best friend’s heart, just like that! Was there something that Crowley had that he didn’t? 

Actually, Hastur could name a few.

Well, for one, experience. Crowley has had many relationships in the past, so he knew how feelings worked. He knew how to play with the emotions of others, that’s for damn sure… 

Looks, yeah. Definitely looks. It is indisputable that Crowley had the better looks out of the two of them, no question about it. His style of clothing was better, too.

_ Ugh. _

It was closer to the afternoon than it was to the morning, now. Hastur still hadn’t gotten out of bed; completely ignoring his mother’s request to get out of bed and join them for breakfast. Despite her threats to throw his part of the cooked breakfast away, he said he just didn’t care right now. Weakness had begun its assault on his muscles, making it difficult to stand easily. He had also been hit by a wave of dizziness a few times, due to his hunger. Despite his hunger, he didn’t have the appetite to eat something. Hastur basically said “fuck off” to his hunger despite it being a necessity. 

Hastur really, really hated feeling this depressed without a single goddamn remedy. He wanted to text Aziraphale to meet him somewhere, take him out to eat anywhere his best friend wanted and confess his feelings. But of course, he knew for a fact that was never going to happen. He just had to face the facts; he had lost, fair and square. Truthfully, there was nothing he could do about it, except regret the words and arguments he initiated. Hastur wanted to apologize for all the shit he’s done and for the times he made his best friend worried. He even had a myriad of things he wanted to say to him, including the words  _ I love you. _

He lost.

  
  
  
  


“I’m just  _ saying, _ angel, that Halloween is the best holiday.”

“What? No way! Christmas is the best.”

It was the weekend; specifically, Saturday. Today was a warm, September afternoon. The birds were singing, the grass was as green as ever, and the sun was out. The sun provided with additional heat alongside the chilly Autumn air; about sixty degrees. So it wasn’t too hot, and it wasn’t too cold. It was the perfect temperature for a lovely stroll through the park, which is  _ exactly _ what our main characters are doing. Aziraphale really needed to get out of the house; being cooped up at home, listening to Gabriel talking about football nonstop was chipping away at his sanity. So, when Crowley suggested the idea of taking a stroll in the park with such lovely weather, Aziraphale immediately jumped towards the opportunity. Being outside was satisfying, and it puts the blond in a good mood. 

It wasn’t that Aziraphale was extroverted; in most aspects, he was very much an introvert. He tends to consider himself what they call an “extroverted introvert.” But activities such as walking were always rather pleasant, sitting down in a coffee shop while listening to the city roll by while taking in the scent of coffee was also rather pleasant. Ah, that reminded him; they also intended to go to a coffee shop later, so that would indeed be fun. Aziraphale could go on about how lovely coffee shops are, especially during the stressful finals week. There was nothing like studying in a coffee shop, coffee in hand as you go over the pre-calc problems and scientific formulas. 

With ice cream in hand and two friends playfully arguing about their favorite holidays, it was as if high school and all of its stress had faded away into thin air. They felt as though they were so far away from the school, away from its students and teachers, away from tests and exams and ridiculous curriculums by teachers who threw in a question in a test they didn’t cover. School was maddening and stressful, and being a high school student has never, and will never be easy. Aziraphale couldn’t wait to graduate high school and move on to college, moving into a campus where he felt more respect for what he’s doing, unlike at their high school. He would love to get away from their school, and just this city in general. It would be nice to go somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere he would have to relearn the roads and shops and libraries. 

But, high school was a distant memory for now; what they were focusing on was each other… and trying to prove the other wrong on which holiday was better. 

“I’m not saying that Christmas is a bad holiday; I’m just saying that Halloween is more  _ interesting, _ that’s all.” Says Crowley, taking a literally  _ biting into _ his ice cream. 

Aziraphale looked offended; by either what the redhead said, or by Crowley’s ridiculous way of eating ice cream.

“Don’t get me wrong! Getting presents on Christmas morning is fun —especially watching your sibling’s reaction to something you got them—but I’m pretty sure Halloween is the more interesting holiday; trust me. ” Says Crowley.

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow at his friend. “ _ Trust you? _ Crowley, you  _ blew up _ the school’s microwave with your macaroni last Wednesday!”

“It wasn’t on purpose, Aziraphale!” Crowley argues. “How was I supposed to know that it was literally going to explode, smoke and everything?”

“You read the label on the box.” 

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Crowley says in an attempt to divert the conversation about his failed macaroni. “Halloween is a great holiday, and should not be spat on.”

“And I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Aziraphale says. “nor am I spitting on its name. But Christmas is still the better holiday.”

Crowley groans. “Come  _ on _ , angel. What’s cooler than walking around the neighborhood in a costume, earning candy because of said costume, and chasing kids around with your scary high-schooler costume?”

“Waking up on Christmas morning, opening presents with your family with snow outside as freshly fallen snow falls from the clouds above.” 

“How unrealistic,” Crowley says as he throws his popsicle stick away. “It doesn’t always snow on Christmas. And not everyone’s families are great.” 

“Well then, the case is closed, since the same could be said about Halloween,” Aziraphale says triumphantly. “Not everyone can go trick or treating since not everyone’s families are great.”

“Touche.” 

Aziraphale just shook his head. Crowley really was a goofball and his mannerisms definitely showed this fact about him. It was refreshing to see a jock act the way Crowley does, all of them —to Aziraphale, at least—had a stand-offish personality that made them unapproachable. Well, Hastur was rather approachable despite him being sort of possessive, but his possessive spurts were rare and far in between. Speaking of Hastur, Aziraphale wondered how he was doing on such a fine afternoon like today… But, then again, Hastur has his own life to live, so it’s probably for the best to leave him alone.

“Angel?” Crowley spoke a bit louder, snapping Aziraphale out of his thoughts. 

_ Oops, had he been thinking all that time? Aziraphale didn’t even notice until now.  _ “Yes?” Was his response.

“Coffee shop now?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds absolutely divine.”

The walk to the coffee shop didn’t allow silence to loom over their heads like a storm cloud on a rainy day; their adventure to the coffee shop was filled with talking and cheery laughter. It seemed as though the sounds of the city and others out on similar strolls around them were put on mute, nothing filling their ears besides each other’s laughter and voice. At this moment in time, nothing else mattered. 

When they arrived at the coffee shop, there were, of course, other people in there. Some were on dates, some were just there for a cup of coffee and maybe a delicious treat, and others were there with their eyes glued to their laptops as they did their homework. It was the perfect place to accumulate all three of these types of people, all seeming to have one thing on their mind; peace and quiet. This coffee shop, in particular, was quite large, and surprisingly, most of the people were situated in the front. Not being one for crowded spaces, Aziraphale made a beeline right for the back of the shop, Crowley had no qualms about joining him back there. Personally, he hated crowds, too. 

After ordering their coffees, taking a few sips out of those, they began to talk once again, and even reveal certain aspects about themselves. 

“You’ve  _ never _ read a Stephen King book?” Aziraphale asked, shocked and in disbelief. 

“No, never.” 

“Steinbeck?”

“No.”

“Neil Gaiman?”

“Nope.”

“ _ How are you alive? _ ”

Crowley snorts and erupts into laughter. He was more thankful than ever that they were in the back of the coffee shop; if they weren’t, his laughter would have  _ definitely _ bothered someone. It was true laughter, too; not that fake laughter he gave people to hide his ever-growing depression or the pitty laugh he gave someone when they told a horrible joke. It was funny, to him, that he surprised Aziraphale this much. He really didn’t think it was a big deal, though; not many people read books unless instructed by a teacher. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard of any of these authors, Crowley just never took the time out of his day to pick up one of their books. 

Aziraphale sat his coffee down. “Oh, good lord, don’t laugh at me!” The blond didn’t exactly yell this, but he did raise his voice a bit, thankfully not a lot to disturb others around him. 

“Oh, angel, I’m not laughing at you,” Crowley says, another giggle escaping past his lips and his body shook slightly in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

Aziraphale pouts.

“Oh, come on, I’m not laughing at you! I-I promise.” Another snicker from Crowley.

“This is absolutely tragic! Completely unacceptable! How could you not pick up a book?” 

Crowley takes in a deep breath to calm himself. “I read books when I was younger, but when I got involved in sports, I sort of… forgot about reading. Sports take so much time out of your day and energy, and it even takes up about half of your thought process.” Crowley explained gently. 

Aziraphale nods in understanding. “I understand. I mean—on a personal level, I don’t, but I get where you’re coming from.”

Crowley smiles. “You could, uh, reccomend me some books if you want.”

Aziraphale seemed to beam at that. He took a quick sip of his coffee before setting it back down and began to speak. He listed off different books, personal favorites, Crowley guessed. He didn’t have a problem with the blond giving him favorites; if he considered them to be his favorites, then they must be good. Being someone who spends most of his time reading or studying, Aziraphale must have read many books in his time before meeting Crowley. Indeed, he had many, but Crowley wasn’t complaining. 

God, Crowley could just get  _ lost _ in that voice. Aziraphale’s voice sounded like singing angels, a voice from the heavens above that could clear any bad day, rid of any bad thought. He was pure, completely deprived of the corruption of this world. Crowley loved to listen to Aziraphale talk; whether they be about books or even about something funny that happened during childhood. The redhead loved Aziraphale’s voice more than anything in this world—hell, he could go on and on for hours on how happy the blond’s voice made him. It may sound cheesy, but the blond’s voice made Crowley feel so much more alive. This was the type of voice that made the bullying on Facebook cease to exist, albeit temporarily. However, when this happened, Crowley thought of Aziraphale, and he made it all better.

Even though Crowley was so enamored with Aziraphale’s voice, he still made an effort to listen to the book recommendations. He would probably have to ask again, though, since he may or may not remember them again. But that was normal… Crowley didn’t realize how goofy the smile on his face was, and Aziraphale didn’t even seem to notice, either. They were both just so caught up in the moment they hadn’t even realized the big, impactful moments of their conversation. 

“—Carrie by Stephen King is a good book, too. Old, but a classic, very well written. The horror genre seems to be more of your style, judging by first glance. The movie is rather horrible, so I wouldn’t really recommend it.” Aziraphale says, sipping his coffee once more. “Did you get all of that.” 

Crowley nods. “Mhm, Carrie, yeah.” He says. 

Aziraphale breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was worried I had lost you.” 

“Well, your voice is easy to get lost into… but I still paid attention.”

Upon hearing this, Aziraphale couldn’t help the slight squeak that made it's way passed his lips, his cheeks igniting with warmth he had only felt a few times in his life. The noise he made seemed to make him blush more, hiding his face in his hands from Crowley. Crowley saw this and he laughed. 

“Aw, angel.” He says, cooly. “How cute.” 

“It's  _ undignifying. _ ” Aziraphale whines.

Crowley laughs again at Aziraphale’s reaction. It was adorable, to say the least. Aziraphale truly is adorable. 

After taking some time to calm down, the two finish their coffees and pay before leaving. They walked back to the park, in agreement that today was really fun and that they should do this again sometime. It wasn’t a date; just a pleasant get-to-know-each-other type of occasion. Walking back to the park added to its pleasantries, enjoying the calming sound of birds singing. The Bentley was an old-fashioned, pleasant sight to see when Crowley picked Aziraphale up in it. Aziraphale truly was a sucker for old-fashioned stuff, finding it vintage and lovely. Most would find that odd, especially coming from a sixteen almost seventeen-year-old high school boy. 

_ That was another thing Crowley found adorable about Aziraphale. _

In the Bentley, the two sat in a comfortable silence as Crowley drove, Aziraphale looking out the window at the city moving alongside them. Aziraphale, truthfully, wanted to get out of this city. He didn’t have a personal grudge against this city, no, but, when you’ve lived in the same place for almost seventeen years now, you would get a bit sick of seeing the same old, boring scenery, too. Of course, not all aspects of this city were all repetitive and boring; the coffee shops were nice, the libraries just the way Aziraphale liked them, and the mere fact that he met Crowley here was wonderful. 

Crowley is such a wonderful companion, and Aziraphale cherished that fact. He felt so lucky to have met him, so very lucky indeed. Crowley treated him with kindness, a specific type of kindness that made them instantly close. While thinking about this during the ride, Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush again. Butterflies danced in his stomach as he thought of Crowley; smiling and laughing and enjoying the blond’s comfort. He felt warm and content just being here with Crowley. 

  
The song  _ Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy _ by Queen played, as if on cue.


End file.
